Unnatural Selection
by dontmissthis
Summary: "It's time. It's time." The mantra incessantly repeats in her mind with the click of each heeled step towards her creation. Her future.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**A/N: Sci-fi? Crack!fic? I don't know. But I do know that I love this kind of fic, and there are not nearly enough of them in this fandom. So—here. Take it. **

_**Note: Flashbacks towards the end. I believe you will be able to tell where they are without difficulty. Also, I'm clearly not an astronomer/scientist so I'm not even going to pretend I got that part right. **_

…

Maura takes a step back. Her creation stands before her, all hard edges encased by flexible tendons and artificial ligaments, sinewy muscle and layers of soft, synthetic flesh. Her thumb rests in the cleft of a chin. "Perfect."

She circles it once more, just to be sure, with her fingers lightly touching here and there. The soft swell of hips, the pliable but firm stomach, scarred palms, and well-muscled legs all on display. Every imperfection formed into a perfection she thought she had lost forever.

She shivers, though unsure of it being from the looming anticipation or the coolness of the lab. Like the last six tested, this model, too, could be a failure. Or it could finally be the one she's been striving towards for these past five years.

Maybe.

She clears her throat before commanding, "Identify yourself."

Dark eyes slowly open of their own accord for the very first time. Deep brown contain a depth no other creation has previously displayed, and they instantly connect with Maura's own. "V825. Class seven android."

The vocal box has been calibrated perfectly, she muses. But there are still many, many tests to be done before she can truly be sure of its capabilities. No need to get ahead of herself yet. She continues, "Of?"

"Clarification needed."

"Which colony?"

"Plathomera."

"Sector?"

"Eighty-two."

Pleased, Maura finally allows her lips to curve upwards. This is by far her most advanced, most capable model to date. She feels herself dangerously fill with hope. "Would you like to know your name?"

Brows furrow perfectly. "Is it not V825?"

Again, Maura smiles. Though endearing, the literalness is not something to become attached to. Once she inserts the chip, it will fade and be replaced with an easy knowledge and laid-back persona that only one person she's ever known had mastered exquisitely. But she only has one chance at inserting the chip. If placed in the wrong vessel, in something less than ideal, it will be rendered useless and everything will have been for nothing. Therefore, the android must be perfect, fully functioning and aware, and it's up to her to make sure of it.

"That's your identification number," she explains, taking her time to visually mark every microtwitch of understanding and confusion that fills android's face. "From henceforward you will go by Jane."

"Jane," the synthetic creation repeats, rolling the word around in her mouth and savoring the easy way it rolls from her tongue. Her mouth forms its first smile. "My name is Jane."

"Correct," Maura answers, grinning in both affection and coiled excitement. She's never given any of her previous models this name yet, all too riddled with malfunctions and shortcomings to bear the name so near and dear to her heart. But with this one…this may very well be the one.

Maura takes another step back, though the automaton stays firmly planted on the slight pedestal. "You may walk around if you'd like."

Jane slightly tilts her head. "Where would you like me to go?"

She holds her arm out, slightly motioning around the government-assigned laboratory. "Anywhere you wish. Within the parameters, of course."

With permission granted, Jane steps from her platform, shakily at first, but easily gains her bearings. Even her gait, long stride and confident sway of hips, Maura muses, is identical to that which is so engrained in her memory. She truly outdid herself this time.

Unconcerned with her nudity, this Jane ventures around the room, touching everything that catches her attention. Her eyes slightly turn blue with every item she picks up as she searches her internalized interweb for the item's function. It's a skill unique to all androids, and a very useful one at that, but it, too, is something that will be lost once Maura inserts the precious datachip. There will seemingly be nothing abnormal, nothing non-human left to separate this model from the other humans on the planet, just as Maura intended. Just as is required. To blend in means to fly under the radar, which is vital given the dangers posed against automatons these days.

Maura follows, observing every motion, every fine motor skill employed. Any glitch or misstep must be noted, for any glitch or misstep will mean automatic termination of this model. A devastating loss—of time, money, and potential—but her eye is not biased or blinded by hope. She's made it too far to place her everything in a faulty machine.

Jane picks up a metallic arm that's lacking the outer synthetic coating, touching each rod and colliery. "Is this for another Jane?"

"Two Janes are enough." Her smile fades at the android's confused look. Jane, her Jane, would've appreciated the joke. Or at least she thinks so. It's been such a long time that she isn't quite sure what Jane would do anymore. Walking over, she takes the piece into her own hands. "This was from a prototype. It's zirconium. Though after strenuous testing, the results weren't nearly as desirable as the palladium-silver alloy of which your frame is made."

"Palladium-silver alloy," Android Jane repeats, turning her own arm this way and that, studying the skin there, the way the metal underneath moves and flexes like real bone and muscle, before looking to the pale flesh peeking from the sleeve of Maura's lab coat. "Are yours constructed from this alloy as well?"

A bemused smile flits across her lips. "No."

"Will you be upgraded?"

"I'm human," Maura explains, gently placing the arm back on the table. "I won't receive any implantations unless absolutely necessary."

Jane's head tilts. "Human?"

"Maura Isles," she offers. "Feel free to look up my credentials and personal history if that is at all conducive to your understanding."

Taking the permission at once, Jane's eyes briefly flash blue as she connects to the database filled with all existing knowledge on their planet. The results are instantaneous. "Maura Dorthea Rizzoli-Isles. Born: 3058. Origin: Earth. Profession: Dual positions. Status: Widow." Her eyes turn brown again, though they are now filled with an awe-struck affection. "You created me."

It's true. The design was hers. The hours strenuously spent connecting each wire and developing each synthetic body system were hers. In fact, not a single person besides the Commander himself had access to this part of the lab in the five years since she began this project. The solidarity and secrecy were her only requests, and they needed Jane's valuable intel and strategies badly enough to comply.

Maura forces down the urge to take the android into her arms. Instead, she shoves her hands in her pockets as she leans against a table. "You were created a long time before I put you together."

"I don't understand."

"You will," she says confidently. "You will."

Wires and electrodes spill out from where the android lies on the table to the floor, down and around where they connect with the tall, thin machine by her head that interprets and sends information to the small pad in Maura's hand. The results from each and every test are better than she ever hoped to expect. Cognitive function is impeccable. Physically, this model is capable of both motor functions and stimuli, whether it be internal, external, or systematic. Gastrointestinal operations work excellently, allowing the automaton to eat and digest anything it consumes without malfunction. There are no anomalies, no super powers, nothing about this android that will draw attention to it. Everything about it works as a normal human body should. This is the key to its survival.

When the results remain the same after the fourth round of tests, Maura sets down the pad resolutely. There is no more need for doubts; the time has finally come.

_It's time. It's time_, repeats constantly through her mind with the click of each heeled step towards her creation. Her future.

"Jane?"

Eyes instantly flick open. "Yes, Maura Isles?"

She takes a controlled breath before allowing herself to speak._ It's time._

Holding nothing back, she explains what the android's sole purpose is. That there is a chip that holds all that is Jane. Was Jane? The Jane Rizzoli that the android is modeled after. The chip will be inserted in this automaton, and then there will no longer be an automaton. There will only be the one, true Jane.

"Implantation will be painless. You'll have her memories," she continues. "Her personality."

Android Jane goes through her database, finding the details of real Jane's life and, ultimately, her death. Dark eyes refocus slowly. "After this implantation…will I be her?"

She bites the edge of her lip. Being unable to lie is still something that plagues her, but is something still considered a lie when it deals with the murky gray between truth and not? Is there even an honest, correct answer for something she doesn't quite know herself?

"Technically," she settles on. "I suppose so."

"But I will also not be her," the android answers, though poses it as an almost-question. Her face falls slightly. "Can you love her even if she is not really herself?"

"I can," Maura affirms, the words slipping from her instantly. "I do."

Android Jane looks around the lab. Though only cognitive for less than a day, she has already cumulated several of her own thoughts and experiences. "Will she remember this? The before?"

"No," Maura answers. Her voice is tenderly quiet. "There will only be her and her memories. There will be nothing of you left. "

Sadness, Maura realizes. There is sadness and fear here on the table in front of her. But it is quickly washed away in an amalgamation of understanding and concern. "Will she be informed of her death? Of me?"

"She asked me to tell her what happened if things were to come to this."

"But you will tell her," the android prods, sensing the hedging edge to her creator's tone. "Correct?"

"I'm afraid," she finally admits after a long moment of silence. The first contact initiated by the android comes in a tender brush of fingers against Maura's hand. It's as if Jane is already in there, she thinks. A reassuring smile graces her lips. "But yes. I will make sure she knows everything."

"Good. She will want that." The android then turns her face towards the ceiling, closing her eyes and taking one unneeded, unwavering breath. "System ready for implantation."

The practice of condensing the contents of someone's brain to a small disk has been around for years, though there was never a vessel good enough to successfully incorporate it into their system.

Not until today.

The chip, better referred to as a microchip, is tiny. So tiny, in fact, that she must pick it up from the lockbox with a pair of tweezers that are barely long enough to hold between her fingers. But the size belies all that it holds. Every memory, from birth until the hours before Jane's death, is contained within it. Her personality. Her love.

Her everything.

Maura presses it against the skin behind the android's ear, watching as it slowly incorporates into the automaton, swallowed up and covered by flesh so that no evidence that it was ever there remains.

Nary a minute goes by before the android goes rigid against the table as synthetic synapses fire, as she's filled with an old lifetime; a new one.

* * *

Rambutan juice dribbles down her chin as she idly takes another bite of the sticky fruit. From her seat on the sidewalk she watches the newest batch of hovercrafts lift off for trial runs. The enforcers and officers clad in the stretchy green exosuits yell directions to each other as they adjust to the unfamiliar settings and levers of the upgraded vehicles. So authoritative, so in command, yet still personable enough to look up to. _Four more years,_ she thinks, _Four more years and that'll be me. _

Rapid footsteps pound against the cement behind her, coming to an abrupt stop inches from her side. "Janie!"

Her head jerks up to see Frankie bending over with his hands on his knees, sweat dripping down his forehead, and panting for breath. "Ma said…gotta come home…quick."

She jumps to her feet. "What? What's wrong? Is it Pop? Tommy?"

He vehemently shakes his head. "Worse."

They race home, dodging revokers and quenoids and other various flying apparatuses, running down the conveyor belts already designed to propel citizens along faster, down sidestreets and back lanes until finally, finally reaching their housing facility. Being one of the older models, the face is starting to slough off like icing and stain from polluted rain, and the inside hallway leading to each individual unit looks much the same. However, their unit is decorated with a mother's loving touch. The walls were illegally painted various colors some years ago, and holographic pictures dance within frames. Lights fizz on with a cracking hiss as soon as the two barrel into the kitchen and shut back off again when they make their way towards the living room.

Angela stands there in the middle of the small space, dishrag in one hand and the other pressed against her mouth, staring at the panoramic broadcaster that takes up the entire wall.

"Ma?" She takes a cautious step forward. "What's going on?"

Her attention is jerked to an image of the sun filling up the entire wall, yellow mottled orange and soon to be red. Variations of _approaching _and _red giant_ and _catastrophic _and _doomed _roar through the speakers and echo around the otherwise silent room.

At seventeen and damn near top of her class, she doesn't even need to hear her mother's choked answer to know what this means.

…

For the sixth night in a row, Angela scoops brown mush onto their clear dinner trays. No fruits, nothing born from any type of vegetation. There are hardly any naturally occurring plants left now anyway, leaving nothing but lumpy, brown, tasteless mush.

Her stomach growled relentlessly for the past hour, but no. There's no way she can handle this again. She pushes it away with a grimace.

"Janie." The look on her mother's face speaks volumes. Angela can whip up a gourmet meal from food bought with a dollar, but not even she can fix this government-issued mash. "It's only until they can figure something else out. Please eat something. You're all skin and bones as it is."

Jane never knew that seeing devastation mar her mother's face would feel so much like her own heart breaking.

She picks up her spoon and, for the first time in nearly a week, eats every last bit of brown goo on her plate.

….

The breath escapes her lungs in a _whoosh _as she hits the hard surface of the hover-ramp. Days of practicing how to drive this damn machine, and she still can't manage to stay balanced on it for longer than two minutes.

"Your center of gravity shifts slightly to the right every time you initiate the thrusters," a voice calls out from the side of the ramp. "It shouldn't be too hard to correct if you remember not to lean."

She shields her eyes from the sun, looking for the voice's owner as she struggles to sit up. "Huh. Is that so?"

Apparently the sarcasm is missed. Several click-clacks of shoes against the laminate surface echo as the woman comes closer. "Yes, it is. In fact, I would suggest weights for your left side until you're accustomed to maintaining a centered balance."

She wants to roll her eyes. What kind of enforcer wears ankle weights to drive a hover craft, for hell's sake? But there's something about the way this woman speaks that causes her to refrain from being the sarcastic asshole she's sometimes known to be.

Once face-to-face, she's really, truly glad she held off on that whole sarcastic asshole thing. This woman is…she's the most beautiful woman she's seen in a really long time. And considering how easy it is to get facial implants and reconstructions these days…that's saying something.

"Jane Rizzoli," she offers, jutting out her hand. "Class seven enforcer."

"Maura Isles," the woman replies, smiling demurely. "Doctor. Though I do tend to stray more towards the researching aspect, so most days I could easily say I'm more of a scientist."

Her interest spikes. A put-together woman who also knows her stuff? Count her in. Count her in right this second. She smirks playfully. "Research, huh? Well there's this fake coffee place down the square I've been dying to try. Wanna go help me test it out sometime?"

Maura grins, her dimples delicately framing her lips. "Am I mistaken, or was that a pickup line?"

"Only if it worked," she hedges, lifting an eyebrow. "So. What do you say?"

Two days later, and the results emerge tried and true: the overpriced, synthetic coffee is good, but the company is even better.

…

Jane gracelessly flops down on one of the white stools dotting the corner of the facility. Exercising is uncommon considering the ease of obtaining body modifications and feel-good medications, but Maura insists that the rush of natural endorphins and hard-earned muscle is better than any pill or bodily implant can provide.

She tips her head back as she squeezes liquid from the degradable pouch, and smacks her lips several times after swallowing. With freshwater drying up all over the globe, manufactured water sprang up seemingly over night, filling up the markets and taps all over the planet at once. With little time to adjust, she isn't quite sure that she likes the change.

"Is it just me, or does this water taste weird?"

Maura takes a deep pull from the pouch between deep, heavy breaths. "Just you."

"Gee, thanks for the support." She cuts her eyes towards the other woman before taking another experimental sip. Her face scrunches instantly. "No. No, that definitely tastes weird."

The corners of Maura's lips turn in a bemused grin. "Jane, it was produced in a lab. Not a toilet."

She grumbles, "Still weird."

"The water we previously drank was filled with impurities which attributed to its very distinct flavor," Maura explains, sitting next to her. "This tastes differently because it contains no impurities whatsoever. Nothing except hydrogen and oxygen fused from their purest forms."  
"So it's gross because it's clean?" She lightly chuckles to herself mirthlessly. "That's messed up."

"What? That we are so used to the diminishing quality of our surroundings that anything deviating from it is deemed worse?"  
"Yeah," she answers, grinning. "I think that's what I meant."

With Maura's smile, her own only grows larger. Meeting this woman was possibly the best thing to happen in her recent history. She would drink funky-tasting clean water by the gallon, go for unnecessary runs, and face the ever-rising temperatures twice a day if it means getting to spend time with her. Simply put, Maura just makes everything better.

The timer on the inside of her wrist begins beeping. She sighs. If she's late for her shift one more time…it's not something she really wants to think about. Maura regards her with a thinly veiled sorrow as she stands.

"I'll be safe," she promises, and then she presses a kiss against the crown of Maura's hair before backing away. "See you tomorrow?"

Maura, nervously fiddling with the water pouch at her stool, nods without taking her eyes from her retreating form. The look on her face pulls at Jane's chest. She knows how much Maura worries about her while she's at work. And why shouldn't she? At least two enforcers are lost, either from death or simply disappearing, every single shift. There's a very real chance that it may happen to her one day.

She jogs over last second, and this time leaves a reassuring kiss against her girlfriend's upturned lips. Maura cradles the hand on her cheek, rubbing Jane's fingers affectionately. "Thank you," she says, and a smile soon follows. "Now go. We both know what happens if you're late again."

It's an all-out sprint to get to the 93rd floor of the Enforcement Office. Nonetheless, she stumbles in almost a full minute late anyway. The resulting reprimand is more than severe.

But in the end, she decides seeing Maura smile like _that_ before she left was worth it. Maura will always be worth it.

…

Early morning light spills into the room in slats as the automated blinds open with the rising sun, leaving scarlet and pink hues falling softly upon every curve of Maura's still-sleeping form. Jane grins softly, scooting closer to the other woman, pressing feather light kisses against the corner of her lips. Waking up next to someone never felt quite like this. Not until Maura. And now there's no way she wants to spend the rest of her life _not_ waking up to this beautifully understanding, caring, all-consuming woman.

Hazel eyes slowly blink open, and the wrinkle of confusion on her forehead gives way to adoration.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Jane whispers, stopping her kisses in favor of another smile. "Glad you finally decided to get up."

Maura's laugh is soft and sweet, lightness rolled into a physical manifestation. "It's not even six yet."

"It felt like an eternity without you."

Dainty fingers affectionately push away dark curls from her face. Maura smiles in amused bemusement. "Someone's in a good mood this morning."

"If by good you mean incredibly sappy," Jane says, her fingers trailing down to play with collarbones. "Then yes. Yes I am."

"What brought this on?"

She shrugs. "I just love you a lot today I guess."

"Well aren't I a lucky woman," Maura gingerly answers, before pulling her down for a thorough kiss.

She accepts it eagerly, knowing that she is, in fact, the lucky one.

…

Her gasp is audible to those on the front row when the antiquated doors open at the end of the room, framing the picture of exquisite elegance in the form of white lace. She finally understands why this is one of the few traditions to withstand the test of time.

When Maura reaches her, complete with the most picturesque smile she's ever seen, it's all she can do not to lean over and kiss her right then and there. And that smile remains through the vows that promise a lifetime of love and devotion, through the permanent fusing of bands around their fingers, straight until the moment their lips touch for the first time of their forever together.

"I love you," she whispers just loudly enough for Maura to hear, pressing their foreheads lightly together. "I will always love you. I have from the moment we met."

Maura kisses her again then, radiating pure elation that she can feel in her own chest. "I love you too. You are…." She trails off, presumably searching for the right words. But for once, that big brain fails her and there is nothing left but the feeling currently searing through her veins. "I love you so much."

They leave the building hand in hand. For the first time in years, they don't pay attention to the red glow of the dying sun and all that it entails, but instead focus on nothing but each other, reveling in the first day of the rest of their lives.

….

"It's time to go," Maura murmurs, and she takes Jane's hand in the one unoccupied by a small metallic suitcase. "They won't appreciate it if we're late."

"I don't care. Fuck 'em," she replies, all hard voice and steely resolve. There's a pain in her chest that she never wanted to experience. She looks to Maura pleadingly. "This isn't right."

Her wife swallows thickly, swallowing the agreement that wants to escape. After finding spy cams in the walls of their kitchen yesterday, she knows Maura is afraid to speak out against this. But the people claiming to protect them are now the very ones out to get them.

"We don't have a choice," Maura finally answers regretfully. "They'll be here any moment."

"What about Ma? TJ? My brothers? Where is their transport?" Maura's eyes water, but Jane doesn't stop. "They're going to be stuck here on this god forsaken planet when it all ends. They'll die, Maura."

"Commander Dean said they'll join us shortly," Maura reasons, though the point doesn't quite make it to her eyes. "In a few months there will be another carrier for them—"

"Dean's a liar and you know it." Jane drops her head in her hands. "I can't leave without them."

"You have to." Maura drops the suitcase and to her knees, gently coaxing Jane to look at her. "You have to, Jane," she repeats. "You know what they'll do if we refuse."

And she does. As a commanding officer often first on scene, she's seen it with her own eyes. Whole families slaughtered in the name of coercion. The government always gets who it wants, one way or another.

"But if they're going to die anyway, Maur—"

"We have hope," her wife interrupts, placing soft hands against her cheeks. "At least this way there is still hope that they will make it. Don't take that small chance away from them."

With a heart heavier than the small bag they've been allowed to bring, she willingly allows herself to be led from her home when the transport arrives, glancing only once at the family portrait projected on the wall as she leaves.

…

It's hot. Unbearably so. Even Earth with its growing sun wasn't this hot yet. The itchy lyocell fabric unnaturally sticks to her flesh in all the wrong places as she emerges from the small carrier. Maura joins her side immediately after, and they stand there on the landing pad with hands shielding their eyes from a blue star sun brighter than the only other one they've ever known. The earth isn't dirt, but red clay, and the sky is a hazy purple instead of light blue, peppered with dusky pink clouds. Humidity weighs upon them heavily like a blanket, and her hand immediately sticks sweatily to Maura's when she laces their fingers together.

A clear mask encases the area around her mouth, making it difficult to talk, but easier to breathe. "This is," she struggles to say, "something else, huh?"

The small squeeze against her fingertips is all the answer she needs to know exactly how Maura feels about this.

Two guards decked out in the same stretchy-material outfits as their own lead them to a modest-sized housing unit where Commander Dean already stands, pacing around the center of the room. She nearly chucks her suitcase at his sleezy smile before it even fully emerges.

"Please, make yourself comfortable before we get started," he offers before the door shuts behind them. When neither she nor Maura make a move, he clears his throat. "Alright then. As you're both well aware, life on Earth, Earth itself, is dying. We need to recreate that life here on this colony to ensure the survival of our species. We need doctors, lawmakers—the very best of everything in order to start anew. Which, of course, is why you both are here. " He hands them clear, mere-millimeters-thick tablets that light up with holographic images once the system is initiated. "On this equipment you will find your daily schedules and obligations. You have the rest of today off to settle in, but tomorrow you will both begin your assigned duties."

"A whole sixteen hours to ourselves," she retorts, and plasters on a grin. "Gee, how thoughtful of you."

Maura shoots her a warning look that she knows is borne more from fear than anything else.

Dean visibly bristles. "Anyway," he continues. "If you need anything that is not already here, you can order it from another colony. Due to the terrain, it can take up to a day for larger items to arrive, but most things are here within no more than twelve hours." When they pose no questions, he clasps his hands, already starting to back away. "Well I'll let you have at it. It's a pleasure to have you both aboard."

"As if we had a choice," she murmurs.

Once he's gone, Maura looks around the place they must now call home. Jane watches her lips slightly tip downward. "It's not…It could be worse."

She nearly scoffs. This place makes the barracks she lived in during her rookie days look like a palace. The walls are whitewashed and completely bare, giving the place a sterile, impersonal feel. The white tiled floor is only better than rock due to the warming pads that lay beneath to knock away the chill. Nothing but a basic, hard gray couch and chair mark the small space considered to be a living room. At least the kitchen is well equipped, she muses. If one thing is true, it is that her wife loves to cook. She was afraid that they were leaving their state-of-the-art kitchen for a colony based around a communal cafeteria. Thankfully, that's not the case. Maura will still be allowed that one small pleasure, and for that, Jane is grateful.

The bedroom, tucked away down the hall, looks much the same, with a minimalistic, ordinary gray panel signifying the hidden shelving for their clothing and side tables pressed against yet another set of white walls. She almost expected two twin beds instead of one large enough for them both, though she isn't quite sure why.

"We can order things," Maura suggests softly at her sigh. "Make it feel more like home."

_Home._ Jane realizes, truly for the very first time, that home is a place she will never see again.

Tossing aside her suitcase, she flops on the bed. It's hard, but for the first time in their many days of travel, she allows herself to relax. She pats the space beside her. "Lay with me first. We can worry about that stuff later."

But when Maura is beside her, cuddled up right against her very flesh, she knows that home has been with her all along.

….

Maura glances up from her mug of synthetically produced coffee when she hears the telltale thump of Jane's gait as she strides through the door. One look at the scowl on her face, and Maura's smile slowly fades. "That bad?"

"I can't find anything in this stupid place."

"Your tablet does have a map—"  
"Screw the tablet," she interrupts, flinging herself down on the stiff couch. "And where the hell is that furniture? Isn't it supposed to be here by now?"

"I only ordered it a few hours ago," Maura gently reminds as she walks over to sit beside her, rubbing calmingly at tense shoulder muscles while Jane silently fumes. "Want to tell me what's really bothering you?"

She weighs the pros and cons of revealing the worst parts of her day. Does she really want to expose Maura to what lurks beneath the infrastructure of this place? This carefully constructed, flawed society in which they now live?

But in the end, she knows she has to. They don't keep anything from each other. Not even the more heinous details of their lives.

"The rules here," she shakes her head, "There's no way I can implement some of them, Maur."

Her wife's face softens. "Can't or won't?"

"I think you know the answer to that." She looks down at her hands, reveling the soothing motion of Maura's fingers against her muscles. "Any law that allows the execution of children—children, Maura—is not something I want to be a part of."

The fingers suddenly still. "You can't possibly be serious."

She shakily nods, and her eyes meet disgusted hazel. Even though the society of Earth dismantled into something hardly recognizable towards the end, lawmakers knew better than to ever stoop so low as to threaten children when the number of births each year was steadily declining. Here, however, is a completely different story.

"That's not even the worst of it," she adds, biting on the edge of her thumb as she thinks of every law she helplessly watched written into permanency today. Curfews, sterilization, segregation, experimentation without cause, forced breeding. So very many terrible things now recognized as legal. "It's bad, Maur," she finishes with a sigh. "Real bad."

"But… you're the Chief Enforcer," Maura reasons. "Can't you make an appeal?"

"When Dean said I would help make the laws, he meant it very loosely," she says, followed by an incredulous scoff. "Meaning I don't help make shit."

"Well what did everyone else say? Didn't they disagree as well?"

Jane remembers the empty stares around the table. The unconcerned yawns.

"No," she finally answers, marking the disbelief on her wife's face. "People stop caring when they stop having choices."

Silence fills the miniscule space between them.

Maura cups her cheek, causing her to glance up and easily recognize the fear there. "Do you think that will happen to us?"

A smile lifts the corners of her mouth. The words that follow are ones she knows to be irrevocably true. "We make choices every day, Maura. The choice to love one another unconditionally. The choice to stand by each other no matter what. They can't ever take our choices away from us."

…

"What do you mean you have to _infiltrate the radicals_?"

She watches as Maura's hands slightly shake while lowering her fork. Over dinner, their third wedding anniversary—this is not at all how she wanted the news to come out. But it is what it is, and she can't pretend like this isn't out there between them now. "I have to go in and see what they're planning."

"For how long?"

"As long as it takes," she regretfully, helplessly answers.

"No. No!" She jumps at her wife's outburst. The table shakes with the force of Maura's hand smacking against it. "We came here together. That was the deal."

Her mouth falls slightly open. She's never seen Maura like this, and it shocks her to the point of knocking her empty glass to the floor. Jane doesn't know how to calm Maura down from this, or if she should even try. It's a shitty hand, a shitty deal that has been thrown at them both.

"Enough is enough," Maura continues. Her voice loses its venom and is instead replaced with a heartbreaking defeat that hasn't been present since the day they were forced to relocate. Her hazel eyes water in the dim glow cast from the small disk lights on the table. "I can't lose you."

Jane pushes back her chair and crosses to the other side of the table. She crouches down by Maura's knees, taking the gentle, smaller hands in her own, and kisses the knuckles there. "You're not. You won't."

"It feels like it," Maura admits with a pain etched on her face that Jane never, ever wanted to experience firsthand. "We've already lost everyone else. I can't lose you, too."

"I'll only be gone a little while," she says firmly. "I promise."

Maura bites her lip. "What if something happens? I don't—I cannot fathom a life here without you."

Imagining Maura here alone, trying to navigate her way through the increasingly more dangerous rules with no one to lean on, no one to protect her…it's not something she ever wants to think about. But it is a very plausible concern considering the mission she's now being forced to do.

Jane inches as closely to her wife as she can, focusing on nothing but shimmering hazel. "If something happens to me…I want you to do the thing you've been working on."

Clearly confused, Maura's brow furrows through impending tears. "What?"

"You know," Jane replies, waving her hand around her own head. "The brain thing."

"Neurobanking Integration?"

"Yeah. That. If something happens to me, I want you to do that."

"But Jane—"

"I want to be with you, Maura." She softly cups her wife's cheek. There is no question. She would give up a thousand afterlives to be with this woman again. "Bring me back to be with you."

Maura's head shakes. "We—we don't have the right models for it. We don't have the technology, the—"

"But you will. And when you do, you'll have everything you need to bring me back. I want you to do it," she urges. "Promise me you will."

"It may not work," Maura hedges.

But she refuses to let Maura get away with that answer. She needs to know that Maura will do this; she needs Maura to know that this is what she wants. There has to be no doubt left in either of their minds. "Promise me."

Maura holds her gaze for long seconds. The doubt there soon gives way to acceptance. Resolution. "Okay," Maura finally concedes. "I promise."

….

The first two missions passed by seamlessly, leaving Jane with more than a dozen arrests and a trip back home in under two weeks for each. However, the third is proving to be much more complicated.

This group, The Luddites, reach to every facet of this colony and all the others on the planet. They are so large, so widespread, that Jane must stay undercover far longer than planned simply to expose all individuals involved. But it's been three months and she's only learned two things about them.

The first being that they hate any technology that tries to pass as a human being. This group has already terminated over a hundred rudimentary robots that attempted to mimic humankind. The destruction of government property alone is enough to send them all to lockup for the next seventy years, but the bust isn't worth busting if she can't catch all involved. Failing to intercede all of the radicals means_ she_ fails, which means she, _and_ Maura, will be exiled to a fate worse than termination.

The second thing she's learned is that the whole group, every single member, despises Commander Dean and all that he stands for. This isn't really a point she finds herself disagreeing with, though, so she doesn't include that in her weekly reports.

"We're going to get us a good one today," Charnon, the leader of this subset, declares as she walks into the underground room filled with thirty or forty others. She tosses her bag down on the floor. "Neuralsect. Plathomera Region."

At the mention of the company, Jane's entire body freezes. She knew this group targets companies that specialize in human-like androids and the people that work there, but she hoped she would never hear them plan an attack on the company where her own wife works.

She clears away the thickness in her throat, nervously covering it with a cough before speaking. "Isn't that like in the middle of sector eighty-two? You know, the very same sector Commander Dean lives in?"

"Exactly," Charnon answers. Her lips curve upwards maliciously. "I was thinking we could kill two birds with one stone here, Rane. But if it's too dangerous for you…"

Responding to her undercover alias, she grins in a faux bravado. "Nothing's too dangerous for me. I just think that's gonna be a lot of security to get through."

Taking a step forward, the woman narrows her eyes. "Something you're not telling me there, Rane?"

"Not that I know of," she quips.

Her brow quirks as Charnon walks over, bending down mere inches from her face. "I said, is there something you're not telling me?"

Even though Charnon barely reaches five feet tall, her all-out personality definitely makes up for it. Jane's mouth goes dry at both the proximity and unspoken threat, but she talks confidently through it. "Only a fool'd keep something from you, Char."

"I just think it's weird that somebody from scumshithole Dragi would know how much security is going on in sector eighty-two," Charnon declares, and then turns to the other members in the basement. "Don't you?"

When heads begin to bob in assent, Jane scoffs. If she blows her cover they'll kill her right here and then there will be no chance to warn Maura of the impending attack. "Oh, c'mon, guys. Everybody's heard stuff about sector eighty-two. There's no secret about it being the best guarded place on the planet."

Charnon cuts her eyes towards Jane. Not a good look. Jane gulps.

"Alright, then smartypants. Since you know so much about it, you get to be the first person in." The leader then turns her back and walks away, calling over her shoulder, "We leave in ten."

Jane curses under her breath. Ten minutes is nowhere near long enough to get a transmission out from these caves. Maura will still be in the lab when the attack starts, and Dean's men won't know she's coming in on the frontlines. There's a very real threat that she will be one of the first targeted down if she can't get word out.

But, just like she feared, the thick rock walls block the transmission, and she's too close to the other members to discreetly type something out on her tablet once they surface. Outnumbered if she's caught playing for the other team, she can only hope that maybe, just maybe Dean's men will look before opening fire for once.

With a pack strapped to her back and a photon-phaser on her hip, she takes a deep breath and enters the gates of sector eighty-two for what could very well be the last time.

* * *

The automaton suddenly goes slack, its vitals dropping to nearly nothing at all. Maura's tablet bleats out a loud warning. _Danger. Danger. System failure. Danger. Danger. _

Her heart plummets. It can't fail. It _can't._ The chip has been implanted. To fail now means losing everything.

Maura yanks a vile from a nearby table filled with a viscous green liquid. She pulls it into a thick needle as quickly as she can, not stalling once to think of the pain she may cause before forcing it through the layers of skin and metal of the android's chest and into the synthetic atria struggling to cope with the vast input of sensory changes.

The sensors spike immediately, screaming out a death song. Maura watches helplessly as the android quakes violently atop the table. Every muscle, every inch of body clenches and releases repeatedly in bursts of overwhelming energy. It takes all of her strength to hold the head still enough to lean down towards it without threat of being knocked away. "Jane?" she tries, desperation clear in her voice. "Can you hear me?"

The sensors scream louder. The mechanisms on the inside are doing too much. Too much, much too quickly.

_Danger. Danger. System failure imminent. Danger. Danger. _

"Jane, can you hear me?" she repeats. Her fingers desperately dig into the soft flesh of Jane's skin, willing Jane to feel it, to feel _something_, and come back to her. "Please," she begs, her voice breaking and barely audible over the mechanical wailing. "Please, Jane. Please."

The shaking suddenly ceases, leaving the android limp against the metal table.

Sensors and warnings die away to silence.

There is no movement beneath her fingertips. No sound.

There is nothing.

"No," she whispers in disbelief, stumbling forward. "No."

She buries her face against the still-warm flesh of Jane's neck, attempting to pull some sort of comfort from it, and then begins to wrack with sobs. Any hope of ever getting Jane back is now gone. The chip has been destroyed.

Everything—her hope, her only reason to struggle on—has been destroyed.

Minutes—seconds? hours?—tick away, painted with her heavy grief.

When tears give way to dry heaves, she tries to force herself away, but finds herself locked into place. She can't move. The sudden influx of hormones, from the anticipation to panic to the dejected misery, in just a short span of minutes has rendered her limbs useless.

No, she realizes after a moment, that's not it.

It's an arm. An arm and hands and fingers are effectively holding her in an inescapable embrace.

Cautiously, she whispers against the hollow of a smooth throat. "Jane?"

The arms loosen enough for her to pull slightly away. Dark eyes stare back at her, though now filled with a softness and concern and love not quite there before. The teasing, lopsided grin is the only other confirmation she needs. "Who else would it be?"

….

_As always, thanks for reading! Feedback appreciated. _


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